Heart of the Valley

by Cathryn Hein

  ‘Always other jobs,’ he said to Billy, chucking him under the chin and rising. He’d put feelers out locally, see if anyone had anything coming up. Perhaps one of the studs might be interested. There’d be something.

  Anyway, it was about time he faced the fact that the old man was never going to change. They’d never be able to work together. Except for that one ill-fated attempt after uni, Lachie had lived without Delamere for ten years. In that time he’d matured, learned and educated himself, all in preparation for his return home, and what had happened? The bleak recognition that in ten years nothing had altered. And never would.

  The Valley gave him contentment. He could stay, and if his instincts were right and she felt the same about him as he felt about her, he could build a life with Brooke.

  He grinned at his dog. ‘Better kiss her first, though, hey, Billyboy.’

  Tonight. When she arrived back from Sydney and stopped at the yards to check the horses. In the moonlight. Perfect.

  And this time, there’d be no stepping away.

  Still grinning, he strode back up the lane. A quick check on Poddy and he’d be off. The horse was over his cold but Brooke insisted he be monitored, and when Brooke insisted, Lachie couldn’t say no.

  Thirty metres from the paddock his pace faltered. Poddy stood by the gate with his head lowered, Venus close by, nudging his shoulder. Typically, the horses only moved to the gate when they had visitors, or something caught their attention, or it was time to come in. When Lachie passed earlier Poddy and Venus were in the centre of the paddock, happily grazing, where they should have been. Now they were both by the gate, as though waiting for him. And there was something weird about the way Poddy held his head, as if it had become too heavy for his body.

  Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  Stomach churning, Lachie broke into a jog.

  ‘Hey, Poddy, what’s the matter?’ He unhooked the gate, frowning as he tried to fathom the sight confronting him. ‘Oh, fuck!’

  From the tip of his nose to his ears, Poddy’s face had swollen to grotesque proportions. His good eye was a bare slit and his breath whistled as he tried to suck air through the bloated passages that were his nostrils. His normally glossy bay coat was black with sweat, and from the rise of the horse’s rug Lachie could see the pained heave of his chest and the effort it took to draw air into his lungs.

  He stared at Poddy, unsure of what to do. Then an avalanche of horror washed over him as the horse swayed and crumpled, groaning as his pain-racked body collapsed. The sound of this agony kicked Lachie into action. Mind racing, he crouched at Poddy’s nose and stuck his fingers inside. Swollen flesh closed around them. He felt breath but it was faint. Nothing else mattered. He had to keep those passages open. He had to keep Poddy breathing.

  Leaving the gate ajar, Lachie sprinted for the shed.

  ‘Fuck, fuck, FUCK!’ he yelled, tipping over another box of junk when it failed to yield what he needed.

  He stood and closed his eyes, trying to calm his panic and think. There had to be something he could shove up Poddy’s nostrils to hold his airways open. Washing machine hose? Too big. Garden hose? Yes. Unstrapping his pocketknife from his belt holster, he sprinted for the cottage’s yard, skidding to a halt in the orchard when he spied a length of black polypipe dripper line. Flexible garden hose would be better but this was closer, and every second counted.

  ‘Hang in there, Pod,’ Lachie whispered as he ran back to the paddock and knelt by the horse’s head, cutting the length of poly-pipe in half. Heart hammering, he inserted one piece of pipe and then the other into Poddy’s nostrils, wincing and apologising as he forced it past the swelling. A dribble of blood leaked from one nostril, cut by the hard, jagged plastic edges.

  Once the tubes were in place, he leant his cheek in front of Poddy’s nose, feeling for air. Poddy’s whistling breath felt faint but it existed. Using one hand to drag his phone from his shirt pocket, he felt around Poddy’s throat with the other. The horse’s pulse flickered, rapid and uneven.

  Fingers clumsy with fear, Lachie found the vet’s mobile number.

  ‘Tony? It’s Lachie Cambridge at Kingston Downs. Look, I’ve got an emergency. Brooke’s horse Poddy has gone down. His face is swollen and his nostrils are closing. Pulse fast. Looks like some sort of allergic reaction. I shoved polypipe up his nostrils to keep the airways open and it’s working so far, but his breathing’s still shallow.’

  The vet fired back a series of questions, which Lachie answered as best he could.

  ‘Could be snake bite,’ said Tony. ‘I’ll be there in ten.’

  ‘Follow the lane. You’ll see me.’

  He hung up and sat back on his haunches, overwhelmed with helplessness and fear. Venus nudged his shoulder and he stroked the pony for comfort. He needed to call Brooke, but without a diagnosis he didn’t know what to say. And if Poddy was dying, or needed to be put down, better to not let her know he had suffered. Let her think it was quick. Save her anguish. She’d had enough to last a lifetime.

  Ten minutes passed like an hour. An hour in which Lachie barely breathed for fear Poddy would die. He phoned the pub to advise Nate he’d miss rugby, asking him to keep the news about Poddy to himself in case word filtered back to Brooke. The remaining minutes Lachie filled comforting Poddy. He kept stroking the horse’s cheek and talking to him, alarmed at the heat radiating from Poddy’s skin but striving to keep his voice calm, even and soothing, wishing he could do something to assuage the horse’s distress. Every breath tore, the shallow rhythm broken by an occasional agonised groan. Poddy’s good eye remained half-closed, the skin around it crinkled with pain.

  Tony Hall emerged from his specially modified ute in that unhurried urgent way that only vets and doctors possessed. Though much shorter and balder than Nate, Tony shared the publican’s barrel-chested, thick-armed build, an asset when it came to treating large, often difficult animals. Lachie had introduced himself during his first week at Kingston Downs, and hadn’t known what to make of the brusque vet. Sam and others, though, were adamant in their assessment – Tony was one of the best vets in the district, respected for his efficiency and no-nonsense attitude. What he lacked in bedside manner, he made up for in skill, and in a world of million-dollar livestock, that was all that mattered. If Poddy could be saved, Tony was the man.

  In seconds, the vet was by the horse, checking his pulse and breathing, peering closely at the rampant swelling of Poddy’s nose. With pursed lips and narrowed eyes he flicked through the tight hair of Poddy’s face and nodded to himself before heading to the ute and rummaging in the back. Wary of breaking Tony’s concentration, Lachie stayed by Venus, saying nothing, taking comfort from the pony’s sturdy body.

  ‘Snake bite,’ Tony announced as he returned with a series of needles and drugs. ‘Don’t suppose you saw the culprit?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’ll administer a polyvalent antivenene along with some pain-killers and an anti-inflammatory. That’ll get him out of pain and back on his feet at least. You did the right thing with the pipe. He probably would have died otherwise.’

  ‘He’ll be all right, then?’

  Tony’s focus remained on measuring out drugs but his expression was grim. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘What do you mean, maybe? Surely the antivenene will sort it all out?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ replied Tony as he inserted a needle into Poddy’s neck. ‘If the animal survives the initial bite there’s some hope, but snake venom is often contaminated with clostridium and salmonella. The risk of infection is high.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Lachie, trying to keep calm. ‘They’re serious bacteria, but with antibiotics he’ll be all right.’ He snatched at Tony’s arm. ‘Won’t he?’

  Tony released a noncommittal grunt. Leaving Lachie staring at Poddy, he collected his syringes and bottles and took them to the car.

  Lachie’s chest felt too small for the fear it contained. Poddy couldn’t die. Not now, just as Brooke was comi
ng to terms with the accident, when the future at last seemed bright. Tony had to be covering his arse. Bacteria wouldn’t stand a chance against a horse as healthy and cosseted as Poddy.

  Tony returned to the paddock. ‘Let’s try to get him up.’

  It took the two of them a solid five minutes of pushing and coercion to bring Poddy to his shaky legs. Despite the drugs, the horse swayed and groaned. Tremors ran down his neck and through his body, his rug rising and falling with each heave of his big chest. Upright, his swollen and bloody nose appeared even more grotesque, and Lachie ached for the sweaty and pain-washed animal.

  ‘I’ll stay with him while you get the float,’ said Tony. ‘We need to get him to a stable.’ He frowned and cast around. ‘Where is Brooke, anyway?’

  ‘Warwick Farm.’

  ‘You better call her. She needs to be here.’

  Lachie didn’t want to think about Tony’s tone as he jogged for his ute, but he couldn’t shake the fatalistic note in the vet’s voice. He reversed up to the main door of the barn and stepped out to slide the doors open, mind working overtime on how to break the news to Brooke. By the time he’d hitched the float and sat back in the car he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. Sucking in a breath he called her number.

  ‘Brooke, it’s Lachie.’

  He tried to sound calm and normal but perhaps, as with Tony, it was his tone that had her immediately alert. Her voice came back, tremulous.

  ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s Poddy. He’s …’ He drew in another long breath. ‘It looks like a snake bit him. Tony’s here now. He’s treated him with antivenene and painkillers and we’ve managed to get him back on his feet.’ He hesitated before ploughing on. ‘I’m sorry, but he’s in a bad way. You need to come.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Her breath came fast and shuddery, then it disappeared, replaced with the sound of buffeting cloth and muffled voices. The noise faded and Brooke came back on the line. ‘I’m heading to the car now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ She paused and he caught the sharp clip of shoes on concrete, moving at pace. When she came back her voice was charged with panic and effort. ‘What sort of snake?’

  ‘I don’t know. Whatever it was had gone by the time I found him.’

  ‘What’s Tony’s prognosis?’

  ‘He’s not saying.’ He chose his next words carefully. She had a long drive ahead. The last thing he wanted was for her to panic. ‘He’s doing all he can but Poddy will be calmer with you here.’

  ‘I’ll be there as fast as I can.’

  ‘I know you’re worried, but don’t rush. You need to get here safely.’ He listened to her for a few seconds, to the shuddery exhalations and choked-down fear. ‘Poddy’s in good hands, Brooke. He’s not going anywhere. He’ll still be here whether you arrive in four hours or two.’

  For the first time a bit of steel entered her voice. ‘You make sure of it, Lachlan.’

  Sixteen

  Brooke arrived midafternoon in a hail of scattered gravel and panicky fumbles for the door latch. She scrambled out of the Land Cruiser, hitched up her pencil skirt and sprinted for the barn’s side entrance, stumbling as her high heel caught on the edge of its concrete slab. She grabbed the jamb for balance, eyes adjusting to the dull and dusty light within. The stable door stood open, Lachlan inside, his bulk shielding her beloved Poddy’s face.

  Lachlan turned and walked towards her, keeping Poddy from view. His face said more than words ever could. She closed her eyes for a second, fortifying herself, and before he could stop her, darted towards Poddy.

  Her world lurched. She reached out for something to hold.

  Lachlan grabbed her arm. ‘It’s okay, Brooke. I’m here.’

  But Brooke knew nothing would ever be okay. Not for Poddy. Not for her.

  She leaned against Lachlan for a moment, taking comfort from his strong embrace, telling herself she had to hold it together for Poddy’s sake. She pulled away from him and straightened her shoulders, and with a sniff and a brush at her eyes, moved slowly towards the stable.

  ‘Hey, Poddy-baby. It’s me.’

  On hearing her voice Poddy raised his miserable head and let out a pain-cut whicker. His head dropped again, nose almost into the wood shavings. She knelt by his head, talking quietly, lightly touching his cheek, the tip of his sagging ear, so afraid of the horror before her.

  ‘Hang in there, my big brave champion.’ Tears fell unchecked. Her throat ached with fear and grief. All the way home she’d prayed it wasn’t this bad, but one look at the swelling and she knew Poddy would need a miracle to survive. Still, he had survived the accident, and Brooke would do her damnedest to help him survive this. ‘You can beat this. You can beat anything. You’re my darling champion with the biggest bravest heart there is.’ She clutched his leg and leaned her head against his knee, sobbing. ‘You can’t die. You can’t.’

  She swallowed down her grief but it was too huge to contain. Tears leaked out, flooding her cheeks, dripping from her chin. She clamped her jaw, breathing hard through her nose, forcing herself to stop. This wasn’t helping Poddy. She had to stop thinking of herself and concentrate on her darling.

  Releasing Poddy’s leg, she mopped her face on her cream silk-blend top. Makeup and mascara smeared the sleeve but she didn’t care. She hated it anyway. Like she hated her stupid cream and brown high heels and the fashionably high-waisted brown pencil skirt foisted on her by Ariel.

  Ariel. If it weren’t for her mother, Brooke would have been home, Poddy might not have been bitten and this nightmare wouldn’t be happening.

  ‘Where’s Tony?’ she asked, rising to face Lachlan.

  ‘He had to go to another emergency but he’ll be back.’

  ‘What are his instructions?’

  ‘Keep checking his temperature and monitor closely for any change in his demeanour. The painkillers should ease the worst of it and the anti-inflammatories are slowly bringing the swelling down. Tony gave him a tetanus booster but there’s still a chance of infection. He thinks he might have been treated early enough to prevent kidney damage, but we won’t know for a while.’

  Heart thumping, she glanced at Poddy’s deformed face. The swelling had forced the skin covering his blind eye outward, like a giant, unlanced boil. His ears hung limp. The skin of his long nose stretched tightly over the inflammation. And in the lower centre, a lump rose, huge, painful and horrifying.

  Anguish sent her hand to her mouth. The potential loss of Kingston Downs might terrify her, but it meant nothing in the face of Poddy’s death. The farm was just dirt. They could always buy another. Poddy was a living, breathing, loving creature. An irreplaceable one of a kind.

  ‘He’s going to die, isn’t he?’

  Strong arms wrapped around her. ‘Shh. Don’t think like that. Poddy’s a survivor, he’s proved that once before.’

  ‘I can’t lose him, Lachie.’

  His hold tightened, his mouth pressed into her hair. ‘I know.’ After a while he eased away, raising his hand to stroke her cheek with the back of his knuckles. ‘I know you won’t leave him, so I’m going to organise some things for you, okay?’

  She nodded, grateful he understood.

  ‘It might take a while but I’ll have my mobile, so call if you want me.’

  ‘Okay.’ She held his gaze. ‘And thank you.’

  His expression softened and he smiled a fraction. Then he placed his lips to her forehead and held them there in a move so tender tears threatened again. ‘Hang in there. Poddy needs you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  When Lachie had gone, she returned her attention to Poddy and set about making herself useful. After taking his temperature she grabbed a bucket and a sponge and attacked his sweaty coat, talking to him all the time, reassuring him he’d be fine although the iceberg in her stomach said otherwise. She scraped the excess water away and, using towels, rubbed his coat dry then brushed it straight, wishing Tony would hurry up and return so she could talk to him
.

  Horses were as susceptible to snake bite as humans, and like humans, survival depended on the species of snake and the rapidity of treatment. Thanks to Lachie, Poddy had received swift attention, but if the bite was from an eastern brown snake he had little chance. With a red-bellied black she had hope, but even then the risk of secondary infection remained high. She pressed her face into Poddy’s neck and closed her eyes as fear curdled her insides and the drying sweat under her thin clothes turned her skin to ice.

  Footsteps sounded on the concrete. She recognised Lachie’s heavy, straight tread. Stroking Poddy’s neck, she blinked, wondering when she’d begun to think of him as Lachie instead of Lachlan.

  ‘I brought you some clothes,’ he said. ‘I’ll leave them on the lid of the feed bin. There’s a bottle of water and a thermos of tea for you as well. I’ll bring sandwiches when I come back. Is there anything else you need?’

  ‘A miracle would be handy.’ She smiled wanly. ‘Sorry. You’re being wonderful as usual, and I’m being an ungrateful cow again.’

  ‘No, you’re not, and even if you were, it wouldn’t matter. You’ve more important things to worry about than me.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I need to bring the other horses in and check on the farm, and you need to get into some warm clothes. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  As soon as he’d gone she stripped down and hurried into the clothes he’d brought, pulling on her boots as Tony arrived.

  ‘Well?’ she asked, after the vet had finished his inspection and taken blood samples.

  ‘At this point, all we can do is monitor him.’ He fixed Brooke with a steady blue gaze. ‘But you must understand that his chances are slim. Very slim.’

  ‘But they exist.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then save him. Like you did before.’

  Tony sighed and patted Poddy’s rump. ‘I’ll do what I can.’ But his tone told her he thought Poddy had no hope. He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. ‘In the meantime, keep him warm and settled. And watch that temperature.’ He crossed paths with Lachie on the way out, and jerked his head towards Brooke. ‘And you watch her.’